The Meaning of the Colour Black
by Kikurukina Bal Des'cagel
Summary: The exams are over for Musa. By chance, she meets Helia and takes a glimpse into his old art portfolio unaware that he is the type of man who literally wears  or rather paints  his heart on his sleeve.


**The Meaning of the Colour Black**

November 2011

**Disclaimer:** I do not own or profit from the Winx Club. It belongs to Rainbow and Iginio Straffi.

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><p>The exams were over for Musa. She only had the stress of imagining how horrible her marks were for the next few weeks to keep her company. She was not particularly proud of the fact that she was quite studious. Her milieu of coming from a poor single parent family taught her the merits of taking advantage of every opportunity that came by to the fullest. She was not an information hoarder like Tecna (read: geek) and had no intention of ever being like her. After finishing her magiphilosophy essay and proofreading it for grammar errors, she had raced out of the stressful classroom, dumped her things in her room and left Alfea with some money in her pocket for Magix.<p>

She wanted to spoil herself after having survived such a terrible semester. Her friends were still at school and she did not want to be with them at the moment. It was not an attempt at being at anti-social after having lived with them for so many months; she appreciated greatly the moments when she found herself alone and at peace with her thoughts.

She had saved her money over the semester and she wanted to gorge herself on everything she wanted because she felt like she deserved it. She was by herself in Magix and she relished such freedom. After a bus ride to the city centre, Musa found herself inside Magix's Glass Gallery, a fairly high-end mall (although it was far below Stella's price range).

The first thing she did was head for the food court and much to the dismay of her conscience and health, she ordered herself a tall decadent ice cream sundae that she had been dreaming about for days after she had seen an advertisement for it in an alternative newspaper.

Yum! She ignored the incredulous look of the cashier (for the sundae had an oversized serving meant for more than one) and took her sundae to a quiet corner where she could eat it. She could not help but feel joy fill every pore of her being. It was just as good as the thrill of flying or the discovery of a new favourite song.

She put on her headphones and started to people-watch. She was currently listening to a song called "Eyes Wide Open," a gothic rock song. Musa did not have a particular favourite genre of music but she did jump from genre to genre depending on her mood. She did favour contemporary music though because they often talked about current issues. She had nothing against older music but she could not always appreciate them because she could not understand what the composer was feeling when they had made it.

She remembered going to a concert at Red Fountain. The band was called Stained Ranks and it was composed of people related to the military or ex-military members. She had listened and she had loved the contemporary R&B beat with a hint of a tribal drum but the meaning of the lyrics had eluded her while Riven understood the meaning of every song. She got the distinct impression that the songs were relatable more to the specialists than to her.

There was a constant flow of students leaving and entering the mall through the food court. She new that across the street was another university: a normal university where students did not study magic. They studied other things like language, hard sciences, psychology…music.

Her father had dreamed of her attending a normal university, getting a nice degree and getting a good paying job before she had found out that she was fairy. After that, it was more than obvious that she needed to go to Alfea to control her powers. Her time at Alfea was not horrible but being in a school full of fairies from different backgrounds who had absolutely no passion for music made her feel alone. The school was a microcosm of society. There were princesses like Stella and Bloom and then there were the poor people like her who were at Alfea on scholarship.

Somewhere deep inside her, Musa wanted out. She was tired of rubbing elbows with high society; she was tired of being looked down upon. For all her talent, Musa of being admired as the Fairy of Music who was obviously (and redundantly) good at music. She wanted to share her passion for music with someone else. She wanted to find equals of her own. In a way, she was tired of the repeated praise she got from everyone.

She watched a group of students pass by her. Two of them were carrying guitar cases on their back and one girl with wildly coloured hair was rolling a large rectangular case on the ground—probably an electronic keyboard. Two others had brick-like chemistry books and laptops in their arms and they were rapidly talking about how they hated their teacher. A dynamic pair of boys came running through the door and jumping unto the fountain spouting lines of a play. They fought with imaginary swords and everyone stilled to watch them fight. She envied this plebeian normality about them. They were regular students who did not need to save the world or learn stronger magic to defeat their enemies. All they needed to do was study and hone their knowledge and skills.

Musa was disgusted with herself. She could not finish her ice cream sundae. She picked at the cookie bits in the bowl and ate them. She continued to people-watch.

She saw a man with long thick raven hair neatly made into a plait. He looked like another student. He wore a white suit jacket over some dark jeans and an eggshell white button up shirt. He held a large black portfolio in one arm and happened to be texting on his cell phone. She recognised the aristocratic nose. There was no mistaking the warrior's confidence in his posture and the hidden strength under his suit jacket.

It was Helia. She was surprised to see him here of all places. He waved goodbye to a random person. Musa shouted his name and waved at him when he looked in her direction.

He did not recognise her for a minute. He looked at her strangely and did not recognise her. It kind of hurt to think that he could not recognise her. Then realisation dawned on him and he moved forward towards her.

"Hello, Musa," he said.

Upon closer inspection, she could see that he was dressed rather nicely compared to her and it made her feel awkward. She wore a pair of worn jeans with an old t-shirt. She remembered that Helia came from a well-off family. It was the specialist uniform that had made her forget and made them all seem like equals.

They exchanged niceties and Helia took a seat beside her.

"Ice cream?" He eyed the melting dessert with a raised eyebrow.

Musa sighed with a smile on her face. She was embarrassed but happy. "You're going to think that I'm a real hog but I've been wanting to eat this sundae for weeks now but I can't finish it."

"Pass it to me. I'll finish it. I haven't seen food since this morning. And don't worry; I'm not finicky about germs." He placed his portfolio on the table and picked up her abandoned spoon to being eating the melting treat. "Anyways, why are you here of all places?"

"I finished my exams and I'm kinda here to waste time."

"And go shopping, right?"

Musa gave him a dirty look. It sounded like he was stereotyping her.

"All girls like shopping, right?" He raised an eyebrow again. He clearly knew that he was being ironic. "Well, I'm glad to hear that you finished all your exams."

"I just have to wait for marks and that will kill me."

"I know the feeling."

"So what are you doing here?" Musa asked.

"I had to see some friends from school and generally clean up the mess I left when I returned to Red Fountain."

"You made a mess…?"

"Nothing bad. I'm not hiding an illegitimate child or anything. I just left about…forty-six paintings…and maybe three hundred books behind…. I have to get my car and bring it around to the apartment so that I can load it. I also had to deal with the lease because they think that I still live there…yeah. Fun times."

"It's been a year. How do they not realise…?"

"I know. You would think that they would have noticed that I stopped knocking on their door to pay the rent."

"I thought that Adquistes University was in Adquistes? How could possibly have an apartment here in Magix?"

"The graduating year of the fine arts department has to spend their year in Magix to put up whatever play or concert or exposition they need to. It gives us more exposure if we're here."

"Cool. What's in the portfolio?" She could see his name neatly written on a card taped to the glossy plastic.

"Some prints of my old stuff from art school. I'm kind of embarrassed but my roommates says they are good…but I feel like burning them…but I also feel like selling them."

"Can I see them?"

"Go ahead…. I feel like killing myself. Taking down a troll is easier than dealing with this. Don't move. I'm going to buy some real lunch. Do you want something?"

"No, but thanks for the thought. I'm stuffed with ice cream."

"Sure." Helia left and descended into the lunchtime food frenzy. She watched him pass by various chain restaurants and eventually she lost sight of him.

She held his portfolio like it was a sacred text. He had given her permission to look at his art. It was the equivalent of her father approving her taste in music for her. (They often clashed.) His portfolio was glossy black and was one of those large poster-size ones. She unzipped the edges and opened it. It spanned the length of the table. To say that Musa was amazed at such talent was an understatement.

She smiled and paged through the various prints. Some of them were drawings or watercolour paintings while others had been made digitally. He had an undeniable talent in many different art styles. The vague notions of art that she could remember from school on Melody came back to her. Impressionism, baroque, art deco, expressionism and many more that she did not know the formal name for. She found it strange to find an architectural map with concepts images in there as well as advertisements, a page of a comic and a cartoon storyboard. She did not think much of it because she knew that art students needed to have a varied portfolio to get into prestigious art programs.

She stopped at one painting and wanted to close the portfolio. She could not help but feel tears well in her eyes. No piece of art had ever incited such a violent reaction in her but she forced herself to look at the painting.

She could see the initial sketch beneath the layers of watercolour and acrylic paint. In the distance, there was a familiar Red Fountain hovercraft nestled on a field of waist high swampy grass. The sky was a beautiful shade of powdery blue but the colour of the grass disturbed her. It was painted with the real muted colours of grass, not an idealistic green. She could even see yellow in it. Two specialists heading to the red ship were carrying a stretcher. There was nothing ecstatic about the scene. Their heads were slightly lowers and she could see an invisible weight on their shoulders. Their pristine uniforms were stained with dirt.

Musa wished she had not seen this piece. The stretcher that the two specialists were carrying was covered with a dark blue cape and there was no denying the shape the cape outlined: a body.

The music fairy whispered a short prayer after seeing the date and a dedication on the side of the painting. If she calculated correctly, the date was during the year Helia had dropped out.

She closed the portfolio and waited. The signature in the corner of the piece was no doubt Helia's. She whispered a prayer again. It was the same prayer she said every time she thought of her mother. Musa believed that she should not have seen it. It was a glimpse into Helia's soul that had not been prepared for. The black colour of the portfolio bothered her. While it was traditional for artists to use black portfolios to look professional, Helia's particular one reminded her of a coffin.

She remembered the horrible day her mother's coffin had been closed and how her father gave his wife a eulogy before lowering the wretched black box into the ground. Musa wiped her tears with the back of her arm.

Helia returned soon enough carrying a tray of food and sat across from her.

"So how is that song of yours coming along?" he started.

"Helia, what was that?" Musa evaded with a squeaky voice.

Helia paused. He was not oblivious to Musa's change in tone or demeanour. He saw her face. "What was 'what,' Musa?"

"That last one?"

"What about it?"

"Is it real?"

Musa almost screamed. She could not help but feel uncontrolled about her emotions. Somewhere inside her, she had pent up emotions about her own personal traumas that were threatening to overflow. She wanted to rip the answer from Helia's tongue when it did not seem he would answer.

"Yes, it's called war art. Before photography came along, combatants who could draw or paint were asked to depict wars for newspapers—"

"Shut up! Don't give me some bullshit school explanation. Was that person real?"

He paused, not surprised by her behaviour. He seemed to expect it."Did you read the dedication on the side?"

Musa nodded, unsure if she could speak without screaming. People were startled by her.

"Then you know it's real. His years are written beside his name."

Musa was angry that Helia did not display any sort of emotion. He was like an unfeeling stone statue.

"I…how could you be so jaded?"

"Musa," he said her name harshly. She was terrified to know that he could raise his voice. "Don't think I am devoid of emotion. I am far from it, but I know as a warrior that I cannot let the past hinder my present or future. Please, I'd rather not bring back bad memories. I was the squad leader at the time and his death fell onto my hands. I apologised to his parents and I left Red Fountain."

Musa's hands curled into fists under the table. "I thought you had left because you were tired of all the rumours."

"Him dying only added fuel to the fire and I left before things could be made worst."

There was a long silence between the two. The maddening rush of pandemonium from the lunch frenzy was in full swing around them.

"So…was it your fault?" she asked, trying to be delicate.

Helia made a sound that Musa almost thought was a roar. It was a sound of pure masculine frustration that made the fairy jumpin her seat. He wished he could talk about something else. "I had no responsibility in his death. He acted of his own accord when he decided to not follow the plan and endanger his partner while we scouted opposition movement. I can't control people, especially first-year idiots who think they are better than me because they think I'm riding the coattails of my family and that I don't deserve to be where I am!"

Musa recoiled. Helia raising his voice horrified her. She had never thought it was possible because the man was so well-mannered. She could see that the long-haired man was thoroughly angry. There was a steely coldness in his voice that she wished would go away. She wanted to leave.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I'll leave now."

She could see that for all his impassivity, he was not without justification. It was more like Helia was trying to mask his emotions. If Musa had been him, she would be equally angry or worst.

Helia brushed some loose raven blue locks out of his face and exhaled deeply. "Don't. I would prefer the company. Anyways, that happened a long time ago and it's over."

Musa wished that the floor would swallow her up. "I'm sorry…it's just…."

"Death is like that, Musa. It affects everyone mercilessly. Leave it at that. Want a sip?" He offered her his soda.

She nodded and took the soda grateful for a distraction. She could not bear to look at Helia or his black portfolio.


End file.
